Corsets, Carriages, and Coronations
by percamalec
Summary: When Jace is appointed Inquisitor, he takes on the duties that come with the job, including participating in Accords meetings and going to boring coronations. When he meets Clary, he discovers that there are some advantages to being royalty. In the midst
1. Jace I

**Hey, guys! So I had this super strong urge to write something fantasy-ish, but I suck at coming up with my own characters so I decided to just write a fanfiction. Basically, there're kingdoms (Nephilim, Humans, Warlocks, etc.) and monarchies. **

**And all that good stuff, like corsets, carriages, and coronations :)**

**Nothing explicit, but there _are_ some references, as well as swearing and violence.**

**I DON'T OWN THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS!**

Jonathan Christopher Wayland was not necessarily someone you would want ruling your kingdom, but he was the only eligible man who fit the criteria. He was the only son of the late Inquisitor Michael Wayland, and though he was a womanizer, manwhore, bastard, and rather stubborn, the ancient laws of the Covenant clearly state:

_Only a direct descendant of a previous ruler may inherit the throne._

Of course, Jace was not all bad. With his golden hair and golden eyes, and of course his love for beautiful women, it would be a piece of cake for him to visit other kingdoms and root out secrets by way of building a 'relationship' with the resident princess.

And he was, the Council had to admit, an amazingly talented warrior. Not to mention his outstanding Institute grades and talent with runes.

Jace's coronation was a grand affair, to match a grand man. His black gear was hidden by his crimson robe, and the rows of seating in the Accords Hall were full to the brim with the Nephilim of Idris. Nobody in their right mind missed anything Jace was involved in. Brother Jeremiah and Sister Magdalena were stationed on the dais, and Consul Penhallow stood between them. The entire event went off without a hitch.

As the youngest Inquisitor in history, of course Jace wanted to start with a bang, meaning getting drunk off his arse and maybe bringing a girl home.

His friends all suggested Pandemonium, a new club in the mundane kingdom. Mundanes were beings with no magical or special abilities at all. Nephilim and other beings, such as warlocks or vampires, loved to taunt the mundanes, but it was kept civilized, for the Accords prevented any sort of violence towards mundanes. Mundanes were also the only race that kept a normal monarchy as their government, with the Morgenstern family ruling at the moment.

Jace and his friends reached the club fairly quickly, considering that all they had to do was apply some strong speed runes. They were hyped and ready for some action, save for one. Jace's _parabatai_, Alec Lightwood, hated clubs. He hated sex, clubs, romance, PDA, and anything that had to with getting intimate.

On the other hand, Alec's sister loved getting intimate. Izzy and Jace were the most sexually active, but in different ways. Whereas Jace just wanted sex, Izzy never went out and just did it with a stranger. She worked to cultivate relationships with her boyfriends, but it never seemed to work out. They were always caught cheating or they just wanted her for her looks. Of course, every time it happened, Izzy's heart cracked a bit, but she never showed it.

The Nephilim stumbled into the club and dispersed. Jace was going to head for the bar, but he caught a flicker of movement. Of course, there was movement everywhere, but this sort of movement was… different. Stealthy, graceful… demonlike.

He grabbed Alec's arm and motioned to the demon. Alec did the same to Izzy. Izzy's mouth spread into a grin. Jace's followed. The only action better than bed action, was demon action. Nephilim lived for demon-killing. They trained from birth for it. They never left home without a weapon, never let without a stele.

Izzy's electrum whip uncoiled from her wrist, snaking through her fingers. Alec's seraph blade was already out and glowing, as was Jace's. They split, going for the demon in different directions. Other Nephilim caught sight of the fight and stopped to watch. Mundanes screamed at the Shadowhunters and pressed against the walls as they circled the sole demon.

Alec kicked it in the chest, sending it backwards, only to be cracked by Izzy's whip, which then circled the demon's body like a snake, squeezing tighter and tighter as Jace twirled his blade and sank it deep in its throat, beheading it. As it dissolved, a very angry girl marched up to them. She wore a short dress that ended just below her knees, showing off more skin than appropriate. Her tight green corset accentuated her flaming red hair, and her blazing green eyes bored into Jace's.

"Out, now please," she said, and pointed at the doors. Jace chuckled.

"You're welcome," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh my gosh, thank you so fucking much, o holy Nephilim, our saviors! You killed another demon, one of the only races that _doesn't _terrorize us." She flipped her hair and gave him a pointed look. "Is that good enough for you?"

Some people snickered.

"Hmm… not quite," he breathed, stepping closer and realizing how short she was. "Maybe you could make up for it… tonight." He whispered the last part in her ear, hoping to get a rise out of her.

His plan backfired. "Don't you get enough of that?" she whispered back, sending slight shivers down Jace's spine.

"Wait," Alec said, stepping forward. "What did you mean, demons don't terrorize you?"

"Obviously, someone needs to keep up with politics more," she rolled her eyes again.

"The Inquisitor's dead. We just got a new one today."

"Yes, yes, Jonathan Wayland," she waved it away. "I keep up with the news. Our kingdom and Edom signed a peace treaty."

The Nephilim went still, their minds reeling. "What?" Jace asked, gripping his seraph blade tighter.

"In exchange for resources we can provide, they are protecting us from the likes of you," she said, annoyed.

"The likes of us?" Jace quoted.

"Yeah. Cold-blooded killers."

"As opposed to peace loving killers?" Jace smirked.

"As opposed to someone who doesn't kill people."

Jace bristled. He was arguing with a _mundane_. Did she know who she was talking to?

"We don't kill _people_. We kill demons."

"Like there's any difference to you," she scoffed.

"Careful," he snarled, bringing her into a headlock and holding the blade against her throat.

She only laughed. "The Accords prevent you from harming me."

"Do you know who you're talking to?" he hissed.

"An asshole."

"Jonathan Christopher Wayland," he breathed. "Inquisitor of Idris."

"Hm," she said sweetly. "I wonder what your dear Clave would say if they saw you breaking the Accords."

"I haven't harmed you yet."

"But the Accords also state, 'No member of the royal line of the human race will be put intentionally in harm's way.'"

She was of royal blood? Jace released her.

"Clare?" A brown-haired guy with glasses who looked sort of like a rat came up and looked the group over, his face hardening. "What are you doing here?" He glared at the Nephilim.

Clare… as in Clarissa? Princess Clarissa? Jace had met her mother, Queen Jocelyn, when accompanying his father on business. Valentine Morgenstern, the late king, had died in battle.

"I'm _trying_ to get them to leave," Clarissa sighed. "But you know how it is with _them._" She shot the Shadowhunters a venomous look.

"Obviously we're not wanted," Alec said hurriedly. "Let's go."

** One Year Later**

Jace threw his luggage into the carriage and mounted his horse, Balios. The other members of the riding party arrived soon after. Brother Zachariah rode in the carriage, along with his horrid cat, Church. Sister Cleophas joined him soon after, and then Jace's personal guests, Alec and Izzy came.

The leaders of all the kingdoms were going to the mundanes' castle, for two reasons. The first was that the mundane prince, Jonathan Christopher, had come of age and was to be crowned king, and the other was for the annual Accords meeting.

The Nephilim political party set off at a fast pace, wanting to reach the castle before nightfall, which they did.

Stable boys unhitched their horses and servants took their bags. They were shown to their rooms before the feast. The mundane castle was sort of… drab. Stereotypical and boring. Jace was bored out of his mind while he waited for dinner.

When dinner _did_ come, it was worth it. The faerie princess was beyond hot. He made sure to sit right across from her. There were two tables; one for the leaders and two of their guests; and on for the lesser nobles. Jace took Alec and Izzy with him, of course, despite the protesting of Consul Penhallow.

Jace took a moment to assess his fellow leaders. Of course, they were all much older than him, especially the vampire, warlock, and faerie leaders, since they were immortal. The vampire countess, Camille Belcourt, was finely dressed, more sultry than business. Her guests, Raphael Santiago and one of her subjugates, were not seated; instead they stood behind Camille obediently.

The Seelie Queen seemed very suspicious. She talked to none but her guests, the knight Meliorn and her daughter Kaelie.

Magnus Bane, High Warlock, had brought three guests (plus a cat), despite the rules. Catarina Loss, Ragnor Fell, and the half warlock, half Shadowhunter Tessa Gray, whom Jace had met on occasion. Magnus seemed a bit fascinated with Alec, but Alec was doing his best to ignore the warlock's pestering questions.

The werewolves didn't really have a monarchy. They had leaders of the pack. Luke Garroway was the current leader. Jace had known him before he had been turned, when he was known as Lucian Graymark.

Praetor Lupus was there too. They were another werewolf clan.

There were three demons at the table. Jace didn't care to learn their names. Every Shadowhunter in the room sat rigid and tense, watching them.

And of course, the mundanes. Queen Jocelyn, and the prince himself, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. The princess stumbled in late, and then Jace remembered that they had met before… once.

Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, the heralds announced her as.

Her dress was nothing like the one at the club. This one was of proper length. It was deep purple with gold trim on the tight corset and the sleeves. The skirts sprouted from her waist and fell in a smooth bell shape. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and a gold tiara sat on her head.

She looked amazing, though he wouldn't say that out loud. She wasn't hot, or sexy. She was just beautiful. It seemed no one else noticed… except for her brother. He stared at her with a hunger, and Jace could have sworn Jonathan was staring at her chest. He shrugged it off.

Jace caught Clarissa's eye and smirked. She rolled her eyes, and his smirk grew. To his satisfaction, her cheeks colored slightly, and he winked.

Meanwhile, that Magnus guy was still harassing Alec, and there was a perfectly sexy, single (as far as he knew) woman in front of him. He focused his charms on Princess Kaelie, which didn't seem to bother her at all, judging from the rate at which she was batting her eyelashes. Definitely single.

**Thanks for reading :) reviews are welcome xxx**


	2. Clary II

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! Here's the next segment:**

Clary just could not believe her horrid luck.

Why must everything bad all happen at once?

That insufferable bastard Inquisitor Wayland was visiting, her overbearing and suspicious brother was about to be crowned king, and she really couldn't breathe, thanks to her mother.

Clary remembered when her mother first came to her room on that fateful day. Servants and seamstresses followed behind, all with yards of fabric and dresses. It had been the day after Jonathan's coronation had been announced. Jocelyn had decided that now was the time to start advertising her daughter for marriage. That meant tighter corsets, lower necklines, higher shoes, more accessories, and less freedom.

Now, a day after the other leaders had arrived, her mother was enforcing her dress code more than ever.

While Clary's emerald dress was beautiful, it wouldn't let her breathe. The corset beneath was tightly fastened, and it had taken the servants at least half an hour. On top of that, the dress itself was a tad bit small, even for Clary. Needless to say, she felt like throwing something. Or passing out.

She was in the courtyard, and she ducked into the maze of hedges for privacy, since she wasn't about to go all the way back to her room. She walked a fair way, then stopped to adjust the bodice of her dress. Gripping the plunging neckline, she pulled it outwards for a moment of relief for her lungs. Either she pulled to hard, or the dress was of flimsy material, but a string snapped, leading to more strings snapping, leading to two slits on either side of the bodice.

"Shit," she sighed. This predicament would not have been a problem normally, because all the servants and guards were used to seeing her with some sort of clothing malfunction. But now, there were guests at the castle, so of course she probably shouldn't go parading about with a torn dress.

"Such a foul mouth," a voice said.

"Double shit," Clary turned, seeing a twit. A very handsome twit, but a twit nonetheless.

"Princess Clarissa Adele," Inquisitor Wayland bowed low, taking her hand and pressing his lips to it. Though she didn't want to admit it, a tingle ran up her spine.

"Inquisitor Wayland," she rolled her eyes.

"No curtsy? You pain me," he joked. "And we're old friends, remember? Call me Jace."

"Alright," she sighed. "I guess you can call me Clary, then."

"Clary," he tried it out. "I like that."

"You like everything that has to do with the female gender."

His eyes drifted over her body, pausing at the tear in her dress that exposed her undergarments.

"Um," he stuttered. "Your…ah, dress…"

"Yes, yes I know!" Clary snapped. "Why else would I be hiding in a hedge maze?"

"I thought you might be meeting a forbidden lover," he said, his cool confidence returning somewhat. "Like that rat boy from the club."

"Shh!" she said, looking around. Nobody at the castle knew about her escapades, save for two of the servants who had been bribed into secrecy. "Give me your jacket."

"My jacket?"

"Yes!" she said impatiently. "I'm not about to go wandering around with a ripped bodice!"

"Right," he remembered. He pulled of his black jacket and handed it to the princess, who quickly slid her arms through the sleeves. The jacket looked a little big on her.

"Let's get out of here," she muttered. "I need to change."

Clary expertly navigated her way through the maze, Jace following behind. At the exit, they bumped into Jocelyn.

"Clary? What are you wearing?" her eyes drifted to Jace, and she smiled knowingly. "Inquisitor!"

Jace bowed. "Queen Jocelyn. A pleasure."

Clary immediately latched onto Jace's arm and giggled. She _giggled_. Jace seemed a little confused, but basked in the attention. "Oh, Mother! Hello!"

The queen's smile grew, and Clary had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

"Hello," she replied. "Pleasure meeting you, Inquisitor. I'll leave you two alone to enjoy each other's company!" She winked at Clary and brushed past the two.

"Okay! Bye!" Clary giggled again. She waited until Jocelyn was out of sight until detaching herself from Jace, who watched her with an amused expression.

"What?" she snapped.

"You _giggled_."

"My mother is crazy about finding me a suitable husband. If she thinks I'm 'putting myself out there,' then she's happy."

"Are you sure you just found yourself in a moment of weakness and let your desire take over?"

"I'm pretty sure." She rolled her eyes.

"If you say so, milady."

"Shut it."

* * *

After changing out of the ripped dress and donning a new one, Clary found herself in the royal art gallery. She often visited for inspiration for her own paintings. Multiple times, she had asked her father if she could display just a few of her own pieces, but he had always scoffed at her.

There was one painting that she always spent extra time looking at. The angel Raziel, rising from the Lake Lyn and carrying two of the mortal instruments, with Jonathan Shadowhunter standing before the deity. The classic picture was holy for the Nephilim, but for mundanes it was nothing of importance. She had just always admired the brush strokes and precision of the artist, who remained anonymous to this day.

Several times, she had tried to recreate it, but with no luck.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Clarissa."

Jonathan moved to stand beside her, his crown glinting in the sunlight from the windows. Her brother could always find her, no matter where she was. He observed the painting of Raziel and his eyes glinted. "You like this one?"

"Yes," she breathed. Something about Jonathan always made her uncomfortable, whether it was the way he looked at her or the way he looked at other people, or something entirely different.

"I have a surprise for you," he said softly. "Come."

Hesitantly, she followed Jonathan to a different wing of the gallery, where the still life was. But it wasn't there anymore. Instead, the walls were bare. The plaque above the arched doorway read:

_The Clarissa Adele Gallery – with much Love, Jonathan_

"It's for your art," he said. "I know how you always wanted it on display, and now that I'm king, I can do that for you."

Jonathan wasn't king yet, but Clary pushed that out of her mind because she was too excited. The wooden floors shined as she stepped gingerly inside, her mind already working out how many pieces of art could be displayed at once.

"Jonathan," she whispered. "Jonathan! Thank you! I love it so much, I love it!" She threw her arms around his neck, and he sighed contentedly. He smiled and his eyes were shining.

She was still whooping with joy when she heard her friend, Simon, calling her name. "Clary? Where are you?"

He rounded the corner and immediately took a step back. "I'm sorry for intruding," he rushed. "Your Majesty."

Jonathan curled his lip, the happiness disappearing. "No need." He slowly said farewell to Clary and left, giving the boy a venomous look. "Farewell, Lord Simon."

"Your Majesty," Simon repeated, bowing his head.

"Isn't it great?" Clary gushed. "It's all for me! Me, Simon!"

Simon came out of his submissive shell and walked over to Clary. "Not bad."

"Not bad? It's amazing!"

A trio of voices met their ears.

"What the hell, Jace? You said you knew where you were going!"

"This is _not_ the training room!"

"Well, sorry! I thought it was to the right of the entrance hall, but I guess it was left," Jace said angrily.

"Well now we can't even get back! We're totally lost!"

"Stop being so pessimistic, Alec!"

"All I wanted was to train! To keep up my physical health in this mundane land!"

"Yeah, I don't see any maces in this art hall!"

"Oh, please! It's not that bad here! Look, there's Raziel!" Jace tried.

"It _is_ bad here! You just don't mind because of that pretty little faerie slut!"

"Just because you're a sexophobe doesn't mean no one else can get any action!"

Clary and Simon were now acutely uncomfortable as the voices grew closer. The three Shadowhunters froze when they rounded the corner.

"Princess Clarissa," stammered a black-haired boy with flaming cheeks. He sank into a bow. "Lord Simon." A girl who looked exactly like him did the same, but with less stuttering.

"Clary! Your dress is fixed!" Jace cried. He took in Simon and frowned. "Lord Rat Face."

"_Jace_!" Alec hissed.

"Inquisitor Wayland," Simon said stiffly.

"Jace," Clary greeted. "Who are your friends?"

"Alec and Isabelle Lightwood," he announced.

"No time for pleasantries," Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Where's the freaking training room?"

"Training room?" Clary asked. "We don't have one of those. You're welcome to spar with the soldiers at the barracks."

"Where is that?"

"Out back, past the kitchen gardens and the stables."

"Kay, thanks."

The three Shadowhunters left, not bothering to use their 'inside voices.'

* * *

"What do you think?" Clary asked, tapping her chin. She and Simon were in her chambers, in what used to be the game room but had been converted into an art haven. Clary's work crowded the walls. They were trying to decide which pieces to hang in the gallery.

"I like this one," Simon commented, picking up an underwater scene.

"_This_ one is definitely going up," Clary said of a sunset. She ruled out the still life and all of her colossal fails at painting Raziel. They went on like that for hours until a timid knock came from the door.

Clary's personal maid, Sophie, entered and curtsied. "Ma'am, your mother sent for Inquisitor Wayland."

Clary looked up, confused. "Okay... how does this pertain to me?"

"She said he would be here," Sophie shrugged helplessly.

Of course. The little show Clary put on in the garden. Jocelyn probably thought she and Jace were making out somewhere, improper as it was.

Clary sighed. It was probably best to keep up appearances with her mother. She thanked Sophie, and after Simon left, Clary rushed to the barracks.

The soldiers were doing archery drills, and beyond that, the Izzy and Alec were sparring while Jace looked on. Clary began walking towards them, but didn't make it that far, due to the fact that a stray arrow lodged itself in her thigh. Miraculously, it had made it through all the layers of skirts. Before blacking out (as a princess, she was not used to pain other than that caused by shoes and corsets), the last thing she saw was a certain blond twit running towards her, pulling some sort of stick out of his pocket.


	3. Jace III

**Hey, everyone. So from this point forth, the story will be rated a high T.**

The soldiers must not have been educated in the runes of Shadowhunters, because otherwise they would have stopped Jace from drawing the _iratze_, knowing that it would sear her flesh. But they didn't, and Jace really wasn't in his right mind after seeing Clary collapse. Izzy and Alec were _still_ sparring. Apparently, they hadn't noticed when she was hit with an arrow_._

After finishing the rune, Jace realized what he had done and swore, horrified at what would happen to the princess's creamy skin. But nothing happened. Jace pulled the arrow out and it was like nothing had happened. Clary was still passed out, though, so he picked her up and carried her into the castle, calling for a servant to lead him to the infirmary.

He laid her on a cot and watched as one of the doctors took her vitals. "She's fine," the doctor said. "Probably just fainted from the heat of the sun."

"Oh, yeah," Jace agreed hastily, knowing that that wasn't the problem.

"She'll be awake soon," the doctor said, writing something on his clipboard and going to see another patient. Sure enough, Clary awoke a few minutes later.

"_What…the…fuck?_" she gasped. Even while lying in a hospital bed, her mouth was as dirty as a chamber pot. Her eyes flicked to Jace. "What the fuck," she repeated. "What day is it? Why isn't my leg wrapped in bandages? What was that stick in your pocket?"

At the last statement, Jace shushed her. "Can you walk?"

She slid off the bed and groaned. "Wow, that's sore."

She limped alongside Jace to the hedge maze, refusing Jace's multiple offers of help.

"Talk," she commanded.

"It's actually only a few minutes after you… passed out."

"_What?_ What about surgery?"

Jace scratched his head. "Well."

Clary stopped and faced him. "What the hell did you do, Jace?"

"I momentarily lost my mind and healed you with runes," he rushed.

"_You healed me with RUNES?_" she yelled.

"Shut… up," he hissed back.

"I'm not a Shadowhunter! You can't just… ugh."

"On the contrary."

"WHAT?"

"Well, if you were truly not a Shadowhunter, then you would be writhing in pain as your skin burned up."

"Jace," her voice was dangerously low.

"Like I said, I lost my mind for a moment."

"So let me get this straight. I got shot in freaking leg and it seems as if your other friends didn't even _notice_ that I was shot, so then you ran over and did some stupid magic that _could have killed me_ all while the soldiers of _my_ army looked on, not doing anything or trying to stop you. Then you carried me – which is such a cliché, by the way. Why not call a servant or have one of the soldiers do it? Anyway, you carried me to the infirmary where the doctor said _I just fainted from the heat _and then left for another patient_?_"

Jace winced. "Yeah…"

"So what does this mean?" she cried.

"It means you're a Shadowhunter, or at least half-blooded. My bet is on full Shadowhunter, maybe even something bigger, because you healed pretty quickly. An arrow to the thigh is not something that heals just like that." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, and speaking of arrows to the legs, I've just realized that you've been walking around this whole time with a hole in your dress."

"Again?" she groaned. "This _always_ happens when you're here! Why?!"

"Relax, you can't really see your skin. Just your undergarments."

She slapped his arm. "Would you please stop looking down there?"

"What? I wasn't…"

Clary rolled her eyes. "We will finish this conversation later."

"Do you need my jacket again? Or perhaps my pants? Or me without pants? Or-"

She slapped him again and left him there, leaving him bumbling through the maze.

* * *

After Jace had finally made it out of the maze, he was heading to his chambers to rest. Fate had other ideas.

Clary's brother, Crown Prince Jonathan, was slinking around corners, looking over his shoulder, and just being suspicious in general. Jace followed behind him, staying back enough so he wasn't too obvious. Jonathan rounded a corner, and Jace waited only five seconds before following.

In those five seconds, Jonathan had disappeared. It was the end of the hallway. And just like the cliché that this story is, there were three doors. One straight ahead, the others to either side. And like the cliché that those three doors were, they were all locked.

Jace stood there, glaring at the doors for almost an hour. Jonathan never emerged from any of them, and servants gave him weird glances. Deciding that this would have to wait until later, he stomped back downstairs, all thoughts of rest gone.

He wanted to talk to his friends about it, but they were preoccupied; Alec was trying to avoid being stalked by that warlock guy, and Izzy was enjoying being stalked by numerous wealthy nobles. So, Jace decided to try and seek out someone interesting to talk to. There was the portly guard in the corner who was shoving bread in his mouth. There was Clary, but he didn't know where she was. There was Princess Kaelie, who would definitely be happy to see him, but again, he had no idea how to find her. There were the members of his political party, who could make him fall asleep just by opening their mouths. Then there were the other nobles, buzzing around like bees in a hive, seducing, spying, and gossiping.

Jace's decision was made for him, as the queen of the mundanes tapped his shoulder.

"Hello," she said in a steely voice. She was nothing like the woman he had met in the garden with Clary. "Inquisitor Wayland, I think we need to talk."

* * *

The queen's study was a rather small room, perhaps the size of a middle class citizen's dining room. Cherry wood paneled the walls, and a desk of the same material stood on a dark red carpet. Tapestries and a few maps were hung on the walls, and there was a chair on either side of the desk. At the queen's asking, he sat down in the plush seat. She didn't sit; rather, she stood before a large window behind her desk.

"How have you been enjoying your stay?" she inquired.

"Quite well, Queen Jocelyn. Your hospitality is most generous," he spoke. When conversing with other leaders or giving a speech, Jace often adopted his 'formal accent'.

"Pleasantries tire me," she said abruptly. "Let's get down to business."

Jace swallowed. He didn't know why she was making him so nervous.

"I have seen you many times before, yes?"

"Yes."

"Many times. And I am very observant, Inquisitor. Every time I saw you, you were flirting with servants, kissing some poor serving girl, winking at princesses. Do not deny it," she said as he started to protest. "And I saw you with my daughter. Clary." Her voice tightened. "Clary is not some toy. She is the purest person you'll ever meet. Yes, she swears, and yes, she may sneak out and go clubbing once or twice, but she is innocent, and will remain so."

"I beg your pardon."

"You see, Clary is betrothed. She must remain pure. Not even a kiss, nor any sort of touch, will be bestowed upon her by you. Her first kiss will be at her wedding, her first time will be with her husband. Women value themselves, unlike men. Especially men like you."

Jace was utterly confused about the direction of the conversation. "I assure you, the princess and I-"

"Are we clear?"

"I-"

"_Are we clear?_"

"Yes."

"Good. It was a pleasure, Inquisitor."

"That makes one of us."

* * *

"Bitch," Jace muttered under his breath as he strode down the halls to his room. He and Clary weren't even in a relationship! And she just sat there accusing him of being nothing more than a lady-pleaser.

"Inquisitor Wayland!" a high voice called. It was followed by a giggle.

Perfect. Just what he needed. A distraction. Something – no, some_one_, to help him momentarily forget.

He plastered on a charming smile. Kaelie was standing beside the door to his chambers.

"Princess," he smiled, kissing her hand. She giggled again.

Kaelie wasn't a fool, Jace knew that much. She knew that this wasn't a romantic relationship. She wasn't like the other women Jace had slept with before. They all had thought of it as more than a one night stand. Kaelie, however, was using Jace just the same as he was using her.

"Jace," she whispered. "Let's take this somewhere… private."

"Sounds good to me," he whispered in her ear, making her shudder. She gripped his jacket sleeves and pulled him towards the door, laughing all the while. He chuckled and kissed her ear, placing his hands on her waist. Her hands moved to wrap around his neck, and they disappeared into Jace's room.

Her dress was off in a flash, and his hands had just touched the fastenings of her corset when there was a knock on the door. He planned on ignoring it, but Kaelie persuaded him to answer it. She let her fingers trail along his skin as Jace got up and went to the door.

He opened it only partly, hiding the bed with his body. It was Clary. He green eyes pierced his as she looked up.

"Hi, Jace," Clary sighed. "I just wanted to talk to you-" She paused and observed the way he was guarding his bedroom from her. Her face soured. "Nevermind, then. It seems you are busy."

She turned to go. "Wait!" he said, making a grab for her shoulder. She sidestepped and he growled.

"I don't want to keep you," she said sarcastically. "Have fun with your little whore."

"Clary!"

"Good bye, Inquisitor," she said crossly. She strode away swiftly, and he hesitated. Being the bastard he was, he assumed she would forget about it by morning. He shrugged and ducked back into his room.

**Hey guysss.**

**So what kind of music do you like? I always ask and people are like "bands are the only kind of real music" or "Justin Bieber sucks so if you like him then ur stupid" and im just sitting here like "I like everything lol"**

**So yeah. Right now I really like "Habits (Stay High)" by Tove Lo and "Marilyn" by G-Eazy but by next chapter I'll probably have a new favorite song, artist, and genre.**

**There's so many undiscovered artists out there… it's just crazy. And there's tons of singer/songwriters that almost no one knows about, but they're so good, you know?**

**Anyway.. thanks for reading, reviews are welcome! :D**

**P.S. I'm feeling super happy rn and idk why. Agents of SHIELD is on tonight, BoO came out today, and I just spent a while writing and listening to music. But now homework… ugh**

**Also, I'm trying to reach 2K words per chapter but my goal won't always be reached.**


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